Lost in Sherlock
by catmilk
Summary: Molly Hooper has always been a fan of Sherlock Holmes and his companion John Watson and the crazy adventures these two encounter, but unfortunately those two are purely fiction, all in a book...However, Molly somehow finds herself stuck inside the book itself with no knowledge of how she got there, let alone how to get home.
1. Chapter 1

_I'm back! Did you miss me? I'm so excited about this story I don't been remember how I came up with it but then again I don't remember what I did the day before, hehe. This is still Mofftiss' version of Sherlock so despite the different era we still have all the same characters, ect. I also set it in the 1930's because the fashion... I mean can you imagine Sherlock wearing 1930's fashion! Yum! I hope you all like it! R&R let me know! Reviews always encourage and motivate me!_

_If you recognize the characters then I don't own them, obviously._

_enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_The great detective ran down the long corridor his heart racing as he knew that with each step he'd grow closer to saving or losing his best friend, "Time is running out, Sherlock." he heard the voice echo through the building, Moriarty. One of the most vile men he had ever come across, a fiend like no other, and now he had captured perhaps the only person he ever cared about, "Tick tock goes the clock." repeated the voice of James Moriarty. Sherlock entered the double doors that led to the stage there he saw a glass case and inside, John Watson, water up to his chin, "Joh—"_

"Molly!"

Molly Hooper looked up from her book she was sitting at the St. Bart's hospital, her plastic spoon stuck in her mouth, her yogurt long forgotten.

"Are you still reading those stupid books?" sighed her best friend Mary Morstan.

Molly let out an enthusiastic head nod and smiled as Mary sat down across from her, "Why do you insist on filling your head with silly little stories?" she asked her.

"They're not silly. They're fascinating." she told her.

Mary took her book from her hands causing Molly to pout she felt a little empty without her book in her hand.

"The adventures of Sherlock Holmes... What kind of a name is Sherlock Holmes?"

"Mary haven't you ever heard of Sherlock Holmes!? The greatest consulting detective to ever live... It's set in the nineteen thirties! He lives in the gorgeous flat filled with crazy experiments alongside his companion Doctor John Watson, the two solve murders and go up against the evil James Moriarty!" she said with excitement.

Mary eyed the book curiously before setting it down on the table, "Sounds like a piece of rubbish."

"You sound like a piece of rubbish." Molly mumbled with a pout.

Mary gave her a playful glare before standing up, "I'll see you later, try not to get distracted with your reading you do have to get some work done today you know that right?"

Molly nodded and reached for her book and opening it up back to where she left off. Molly heard Mary sigh and mutter something along the lines of, "She needs a new hobby." before leaving the canteen.

* * *

"But I was going to cook us dinner." said Molly as she entered the flat with an armful of grocery bags.

Toby exited the bedroom and began meowing up a storm, probably hungry.

"Did you just home? I hear Toby in the background." said Tom through the phone.

Molly nodded but quickly remembered Tom wasn't in the room with her, "Y-Yeah! I popped by the grocers to get things for dinner."

She heard Tom sigh, "I'm sorry, Molls. It's busy here, I can't just leave..."

Molly set the things on the counter and gripped her phone, "It's fine... I'll... See you tomorrow, yeah?"

"I promise I'll make this up to you!"

"Sure."

Molly hung up her phone and let out a sigh. Tom and her had been together for the past six months and honestly things weren't going very well, the two never had time for each other. Tom was a bartender and always worked nights, and Molly worked during the day so the chances of them seeing each other were rare, but they tried to make the most of it but it just wasn't enough for Molly maybe it was time to end it... Her thoughts were broken by the sound of Toby's bell and soft footsteps on the counter, Molly smiled and petted the now purring cat.

"Are you hungry, Tobs?"

The cat meowed in response and Molly went to the cup board to grab the kibble and poured some on his bowl, the cat hopped off the counter and hurried to the bowl and began munching happily at his food. Molly watched him for a bit before turning on her heel and heading to the bedroom to change out of her work clothes.

xXx

"I think it might be time for me to call it off with him."

"So soon? Didn't you two just get together?"

"Mary, We've been together six months!"

"...Really?"

Molly let out a sigh as she stirred the chicken in the skillet she added a few more seasonings before pouring chopped vegetables over them.

"I just don't think it'll work out between us... We have no time for each other."

"Molly what is this really about?" said Mary suddenly causing Molly to let out another sigh.

"Mary let's not start another 'Molly has a sad life' pity party please."

"I just want to help you, Molls. I love you and I don't want to come to your flat one day and find Toby eating your dead corpse."

Molly glanced at Toby who was lazily grooming himself on the window sill, "Toby? He would never."

Toby looked up at her and gave her a look before going back to grooming, "Or maybe he would... I don't entirely trust him."

Mary giggled and Molly joined in, "Let's go out, please? It's Friday and you don't work tomorrow! What do you say? Let's go to a bar and get pissed out of our minds. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

Molly made a face and grabbed a bowl, she poured some of her chicken into it and turned off the stove. Grabbing her wine glass from the counter, Molly walked to her living room and plopped on the couch.

"Not tonight, Mary. I think I'll just stay home and read a little before going to bed."

"Fine, but you owe me."

"Don't I always?" Molly replied with a smirk.

After getting off the phone with Mary, Molly settled herself into a comfortable position before grabbing her book from the small coffee table, she took a few bites of her food before going to her marked page and began reading. After finishing her food and the rest of her wine, Molly's eyes were beginning to get heavy with sleep she let out a yawn as her tired eyes scanned the pages.

"Just a few more paragraphs." she muttered to herself, "I'll finish the chapter and then go to sleep."

Molly read as Sherlock once again solved the case with his brilliant mind and was now shooting up the wall as he waited for a new one, this caused Molly to smirked tiredly she wondered what it would be like to know someone like that in real life, someone who wasn't very _human _who cared more about intelligence than beauty... It was probably scary knowing someone like Sherlock Holmes. The last thing Molly remembered thinking was how at least someone would never be bored knowing a Sherlock Holmes.

"I wish I knew a Sherlock Holmes." she sighed before falling asleep.

* * *

Molly felt a jab on the side of her body she frowned lightly and swatted her arm to hit whatever was poking her, but after a few seconds she felt it again and this time Molly let out a low groan.

"Toby stop it, I'll feed you in a bit..." she mumbled tiredly.

"I can assure you I am not this Toby in which you speak of nor am I in need of any sustenance..." said an unfamiliar baritone voice.

Molly's eyes popped open and she was quickly at her feet, she looked wildly around until her eyes settled on a tall, dark haired man wearing a red dressing gown and holding an umbrella.

"What the!? What are you doing in my flat!" she squeaked in surprise.

The man rose his brow and gave her a quizzical look, "_Your _flat? This is _my_ flat."

He looked her up and down before his eyes settled on her face. Molly looked down and let out an embarrassed squeak at what she was wearing, pajama shorts (way to short to be wearing in the first place, but she wanted to be comfortable...plus she lived alone) and a matching pink vest. Molly tugged at her shorts self consciously, suddenly she realized what he said about this being his flat and looked around. Her heart began to pound, where was she? How much wine did she drink last night? Surely not enough to get her drunk... So then how did she get here?

"I asked you a question." said the man.

"What?"

The man rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, "Idiot..." he whispered causing Molly to frown.

"I asked you why you're in my flat? How did you get in?"

"I don't bloody well know!" she snapped, "Do you think I intentionally came to _your_ flat in nothing but... this!" she motioned at her clothes and quickly covered up, "Do you think I just randomly came here so I could be called an idiot by an arse like you!" she snapped.

The man's eyebrows shot up and he quickly nodded, "Hm.." he said to himself.

"What's your name?" he asked her curiously.

Molly took a breath, "Molly Hooper... Yours?"

"The names Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

Molly blinked rapidly, _"What!?" _she said to herself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"I must be dreaming!?" she exclaimed.

"I can assure you this isn't a dream."

"Shut up."

Molly began pacing back and forth, "How drunk did I get? This can't be real... Mary!"

She whipped around to face 'Sherlock'.

"How much did she pay you? Hmm? Tell me! Is there hidden cameras around here!?"

Molly turned to look around the flat, "HA-HA, very funny Mary!" she shouted to the air.

Sherlock rose his brow at the insane woman shouting, "There's no cameras here." he told her,"Clearly you're insane and in need of medical attention."

Molly turned to glare at him, "I'm insane? Me? Says the man claiming to be Sherlock Holmes, who by the way isn't real!"

She began pacing again but stopped as soon as she heard a voice coming from the stairs, "Sherlock, what the hell is all that noise!? I can hear it from my—"

The sandy haired man looked at the scene in front of him, he stared at Molly and then at Sherlock, before his eyes settled on Molly again. He looked her up and down and rose his brow at her outfit.

"Sherlock..." he said, "Why is there a prostitute in our flat?"

Molly opened her mouth, but quickly closed it...did he say 'our flat'? She stared at the shorter sandy haired man with his ridiculous mustache, in the books Sherlock would always comment and tease John Watson about his mustache and boy was he right... Wait! They weren't really them! But wow, what great actors they were... wait did he just call her a prostitute?

"I'm not a bloody prostitute!" she yelled.

"Oh sorry... Lady of the night? Is that the term people are using now?" He said before turning to Sherlock, "Did you hire her to help you with an 'experiment' like the last one, or did you actually..."

"SHE'S NOT A PROSTITUTE!"

"I'M NOT A PROSTITUTE!" Shouted Sherlock and Molly at the same time.

"Irene Adler wasn't a prostitute either." inquired Sherlock, "She was a dominatrix, there's a difference."

John closed his mouth and smirked, "Right... What are you then?"

Molly crossed her arms over her chest, "I'm a pathologist at St. Bart's."

Both of them looked at her, "A woman pathologist? That's very...unheard of."

"Yeah? Well... Your mustache is horrendous Sherlock was right." she said defensively.

John took a step back and put a hand over his mustache, "Excuse me? You can't just come into my home and insult me! Sherlock do something about your..._pathologist._"

Both John and Molly looked at Sherlock who was trying hard to hide the amusement in face, he looked away from the pair and settled his eyes at the doorway where they soon heard a pair of footsteps.

"Yoo-hoo! Boys! What's all the ruckus? Do you have a new case? I didn't hear anyone at... Sherlock...John... Why is there a prostitute in you flat? You know how I feel—"

"For the last time I'M NOT A PROSTITUTE!"

* * *

Molly sat in the middle of the room, John and Sherlock each sat in their own chairs staring at her. Molly was thankfully giving one of Sherlock's dressing gowns and was now nervously fiddling with her hands. She was processing the new found information in her head and came to the conclusion that she wasn't dreaming and that she was in fact back in the 1930's (after looking out the window and seeing a completely different London) either Mary was secretly rich and somehow managed to hire all these people and take her to a fake movie set just to pull a prank on her or...

"Where are you from?" said the baritone voice breaking her thoughts.

Molly's head snapped up, "London."

"What year?" he asked her curiously.

"Two-thousand and fourteen."

John blinked in awe and turned to Sherlock, "She's lying... She has to be this isn't...possible."

Sherlock let out a sigh, "It is more than possible; it is probable." he told his companion.

There was a knock on the door and Mrs. Hudson came in with a tray and tea, the three stared at her as she set the tray on the table and handed one to Sherlock. Sherlock shook his head and Mrs. Hudson offered it to John which he gratefully took, the older woman turned to face Molly and handed her a cup.

"I'm sorry I called you a prostitute, dear. I had no idea John's cousin was coming to visit. I didn't hear you knock."

"Your herbal soothers really do a number on you, Mrs. Hudson. Now please... leave." said Sherlock.

Mrs. Hudson tsked before shaking her head and walking away, "I need to have a talk with your mother about manners." she said as she made her way don the stairs.

"Tell us more." said Sherlock.

Molly told him about her job, what it was like to live in the 21st century. She noticed how curiously they watched her, especially Sherlock, it made her feel...mousy. To have a person give her such an intense stare she didn't know if he believed her... or probably just thought she was a nutter. Finally she told them about Sherlock Holmes and John Watson (as she knew them).

"What?" said John.

"You're...er... Characters from a book... Or at least you are where I'm from." she told them, "You help DI Lestrade with cases. You solve murders and sometimes even save the world. Your nemesis is the evil James Moriarty who alongside Sebastian Moran, who I've concluded is his version of John, sometimes go to the extremes to get your attention, like when he kidnapped John and put him in the glass tank that began filling up with water! But luckily for him you were able to solve the puzzle and get to him before it was to late! It was brilliant! The whole thing was brilliant!"

Molly looked up at the men where were staring at her with both confused and concerned eyes (Oh she fucked up didn't she?)

"...How? How did you know about that?" said John, "That just happened last week..."

"I'll take it." said Sherlock suddenly.

"What?" said Molly and John at the same time.

"I'll take your case... MRS. HUDSON!" he shouted suddenly.

Molly stared at Sherlock and smiled, "You'll help me get back home? Wait... What do you mean 'you'll take it'? Was there a chance you weren't? What were you going to do with me? Throw me out?"

"Yes." he replied nonchalantly.

"You arse!"

Mrs. Hudson bounded up the stairs, "What is it now, Sherlock?"

"Take a few notes from my wallet and go buy Miss Hooper here some clothes. It's a shame all her luggage went missing."

Mrs. Hudson looked at all of them before nodding, "I have great taste, dear. Don't you worry you're pretty little face."

After Mrs. Hudson left John cleared his throat.

"So you really think my mustache is horrendous?"

"Yes." said Sherlock and Molly in unison.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello! Finally I managed to finish chapter 3 I get so distracted, such a horrible habit, I know. I'm glad you're all enjoying the story! Thank you for telling me that my characters are actually well... In character. That's a huge compliment since I feel like I make them really OOC. So yeah... Hm, I hope you all like this chapter I sure do. I was really iffy about writing comedy since I'm used to writing so much angst (so much that it was actually starting to bum me out) but I find myself laughing at some of these things. Feel free to review, shower me with compliments and stuff (you don't actually have to, but it's nice and it makes me feel special)_

_Oh! Also before I forget, I searched a few terms used in the 1930's (which was fun to do) and I decided to use them in this chapter! _

_I'm rambling...I'll stop._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"I look like my grandmother."

"Nonsense, you look cute as a bug's ear." commented Mrs. Hudson.

Molly stared at herself in the mirror, she was wearing a coral shirtwaist dress with white buttons and matching flats, she had tucked her hair into a bun, refusing to let Mrs. Hudson fumble with her any further.

"I would never wear this..." she muttered.

"Well seeing as how you were dressed before I'd say it's a big improvement." commented the older woman innocently.

Molly glared at her from the mirror, but the older woman ignored her.

"Come on let's go show you off to Sherlock and John."

xXx

Molly felt suddenly shy as she entered the living room, John was the first to look at her and nodded approvingly.

"What a tomato." he commented.

"Excuse me?"

"He means you look...nice." said Sherlock from behind her.

Molly froze in place and watched him settle down in his chair, "John, I have told you not to categorize women in such a way. Women don't like being compared to a vegetable."

Molly stifled a giggle and Sherlock looked up with a raised brow, "Is something funny?"

Molly shook her head and bit her lip to stifle another giggle.

"Well clearly something I said was amusing to you."

"It's just..." she hesitated, "A tomato is fruit...not a vegetable."

"Nonsense."

"It has seeds...It's a fruit." she said in a matter of fact tone.

John let out a laugh but quickly covered it with a cough.

"Oh shut up, you didn't know either!"

"Shut up you, cock!" retorted John.

"Boys! Settle down!" said Mrs. Hudson, "You two need to start behaving properly." she said as she made her way back down the stairs.

Molly walked awkwardly over to them, "What are we going to do now?" she asked them curiously.

Sherlock jumped out of his chair and walked past her to grab his coat, "Go talk to Lestrade of course." and with that he flung his coat over his shoulders as he made his way down the stairs, Molly and John stood in the living room awkwardly.

"You...shaved it off..." Molly motioned her finger over her lip.

"Yep." he said making the 'p' pop.

"Wasn't working for you?" said Molly with an amused grin.

John remained quiet, "We should...ah." he cleared his throat, "...Go."

He walked passed her and Molly couldn't help but let out a giggle before following closely behind.

* * *

Sherlock Homes watched a fascinated Molly Hooper with the utmost curiosity, a part of him still didn't believe that this woman was telling the truth, maybe she was some lunatic who somehow managed to get into his flat, if that were the case then all this would surely be a waste of his time, but on the other hand... What if Molly Hooper was telling the truth? What if somehow she managed to stumble eighty-three years into the past?

_"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." _said the voice of his brother Mycroft in his head.

Sherlock frowned to himself, the last thing he wanted was to hear his brother's voice, especially not in his head He continued to watch her, occasionally he would notice a spark of fascination or a gasp escape her lips as they passed things he saw throughout London everyday it made him wonder.

"Miss Hooper." he began.

"Molly, Call me Molly." she told him.

"Molly." he said testing it out, "Tell me about your London."

"I've already told you."

"You've stated facts. Now I want to know about how you see it in your eyes."

He observed her, he noticed her bite her lip, often a sign of nervousness and the fact that her lips looked raw and chapped concluded that she did this a lot, a habit. Meaning that Molly Hooper was that of a nervous demeanor.

"Well..." She began, "It certainly doesn't look like this anymore." she waved a hand out the cab window.

"There isn't horse drawn carriages on the streets alongside cars, it's different. Your London is a mixture of your modern and the past this London is beginning to adapt to the future... My future. We don't have horse drawn carriages anymore because we've managed to adapt to a quite crowded and very fast paced London. Where there's huge billboards and lights everywhere... It's a little overwhelming once you think about it."

Sherlock nodded as he stored the new found information, he then wondered how it would be like to live in that time, a fast paced London didn't seem so bad. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of John's voice.

"We're here."

John paid the cab and the trio exited the cab, he looked at the familiar building that was New Scotland Yard and let out a breath.

"Shall we?" he said, but didn't wait for a response before entering the building.

* * *

"Sherlock? What are you doing here?" asked Lestrade curiously.

Molly looked at Lestrade and her inner self was going wild, in the books she was a huge fan of Greg Lestrade. He was funny, and charming, and even though he was complete rubbish at solving cases he had still managed to make his way to her 'favorite character's' list.

"Gavin—"began Sherlock.

"Greg Lestrade!" chimed Molly suddenly.

She stepped in front of Sherlock and took Lestrade's hand.

"Even _she _knows Lestrade's name." John told Sherlock.

"Shut up." he murmured in reply.

Lestrade's eyebrows shot up as he stared at Molly curiously.

"It's a pleasure to meet you I'm a big fan!" she said as she took his hand and shook it.

She heard Sherlock scoff, but Molly ignored him. Lestrade on the other case grinned at her, "You are? Well aren't you a doll. What's your name?"

"Molly Hooper."

"Well Miss Hooper what can I do for you?" he said as he gave her another dazzling grin.

Sherlock scoffed and stepped between the two, "I need you to do a background check on Miss Hooper, actually." he said with a cold stare.

The smile on Lestrade's face disappeared and was replaced with a frown.

"That's not my division." he stated.

"Well I'm making it you division." warned Sherlock.

"Boys." warned John as he stepped between the two.

"What? Why? I told you everything!" whined Molly.

Sherlock glanced at Molly, "Yes, but I am still not entirely sure if I believe you, Molly." he said, "I need to see if there's any record of you and if there's so much a trace of you actually existing...in this time. I will not help you."

Sherlock heard Molly mutter something along the lines of, "Git." under her breath, but he chose to ignore it, instead he looked at Lestrade.

"Do you forget that I have solved most of the cases brought into Scotland Yard, you owe me Graham."

"IT'S GREG!" Said Molly, Lestrade, and John in unison.

Lestrade let out a sigh, "Fine. I'll do it."

A triumphant smile appeared on Sherlock's face, "Excellent!"

"And what are you going to do if we can't find anything on Molly?" asked John.

Sherlock's smile faded, "Then we'll have to go to the next option and I really don't want to do that."

"What?" asked Molly.

Sherlock let out a breath and closed his eyes.

"Mycroft."


End file.
